


Heavier Things

by Nausi



Series: Lab Love Lads [4]
Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Incredible Hulk (2008), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alliterative Boyfriends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nausi/pseuds/Nausi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From fallout to fallout these two just keep running into each other. Secrets are discovered, and choices are made. This is the tentative ending to this Alliterative Boyfriends Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavier Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



The Hulk stood up, shook the rubble off his shoulders and looked around.

“Big guy?! Alright in there?” The familiar voice blared.

“Find Little Spider.” Hulk turned his head about, lime green eyes scanning the collapsed building.

Iron Man entered the wreck that had once been a warehouse, “AIM are a bunch of douche-nozzles.” He too combed the wreckage, looking for a bit of crimson or bright blue. “Are you sure he was even in here?”

“Here, smell ‘im.” Hulk bent over a heap and started to pull off debris. 

Tony bit his lip and was glad that the suit hid his face. JARVIS was rattling off numbers at him, the chance of survival, the pounds per inch of pressure that a body would be under beneath that rubble. . . Even as he despaired Tony came over to join his friend, hoping that he was wrong.

Hulk acted as though there was no chance of failure. When they were reaching the bottom of the pile he started to move more quickly though, his eyes caught the bit of red, a gloved hand. “Little Spider, here, Hulk knew.” He mumbled as he pulled the limp form out of the wood and steel. “Sleep? Wake up.”

“Buddy, Big Green, hold him still.” Iron Man floated up, and the suit checked for vitals. “Stay calm, he . . . Bruce, let Bruce come back, we need a doctor.” Tony knew that what they needed was a miracle, a full hospital wing, and to have gotten to him five minutes ago. There was no reasoning with the Hulk over something like this, at least with Bruce here . . . Iron Man dipped in the air before regaining his altitude. Spider-Man’s face had tilted toward him, the mask was ripped, and it was Peter Parker’s ash white face that stuck out of the sundered fabric.

“No look Tiny Tin Man Little Spider is shy.” Hulk cradled the limp form tenderly and turned away from Iron man. Gently he pressed a finger to his friend’s neck and waited. He could hear the little puny voice inside his head screaming, and then speaking calmly at turns. When it said something useful he listened, like now. “Beat, feel it.” His hand tilted Peter’s head back gently, and then slid down to rub at his chest. “Wake up.”

“Come on Big Guy.” Tony didn’t dare come around and try to get another look at what was going on. This had just reached the point of New York a few years ago bad. He remembered waking up to a loud yell and an angry green face.

Hulk kept up with the light pressure and saw dark lashes flutter against his friend’s cheek. “Yes, Hulk say wake up! Trash no place nap, wake up Little Spider!” His voice was getting louder, but his hand was no less gentle.

“Wha?” Peter reached up to rub his face and looked at the Hulk. Memory came flooding back, and he realized his face was exposed, his heart sank. It was at about that time that he remembered the wall, and several floors falling on him. Suddenly it was hard to feel as depressed. It was amazing that he was even alive. “Jolly Green, that you?”

“Hulk! It Hulk. Little Spider need rest, Hulk take.” Without a backward look at the Tiny Tin Man Hulk moved, nimbly, out of the ruin and started climbing. 

“Fuck.” Tony shook his head and went to find the others. Bruce’s love life just got a whole lot more complicated, enough so that even he understood the self denial. 

\-------

It was a weird way to wake up, being in the Hulk’s arms. It was even weirder to know you had almost not woken up at all. Peter was on his feet now, wavering at the knees a little, but still on his feet. He looked over at the large green man and tried to smile. “I’m going to be alright. I need to go get checked out but, well lets just say I should get a change of clothes first.” Heading to the ER in costume was just not an option. Given enough time his body would likely just take care of it anyway. He wanted to make a joke, but the mask was off, and he was just Peter, standing on a rooftop with a giant who was very clearly concerned for his well being. Again, weird.

“Good.” One big hand swooped up and ruffled Peter’s hair, a surprisingly gentle and delicate gesture from him. With that he started to shrink back down. At first it didn’t look like it hurt, but somewhere in the middle it because clear that the man was in agonizing pain. If it had been different Peter would have left. Bruce and he were still not talking, he didn’t want the man to know his secret (except for the part where he desperately wanted Bruce to know), and he had gotten home out of worse situations. The sight of him curled up, hugging his own knees was too much though. Peter was angry, but not angry enough to turn his back on Bruce when he looked like that.

Peter knelt down next to Bruce and stroked his hair slowly, rhythmically. He knew what was happening. This was not the first time he had watched him come back, but it was the first time that he was crouching where Tony would be, or sometimes Jenny. True, Spider-Man had talked Bruce back a few times, but once the change had started he had always backed off and let one of the actual Avengers, one of his real friends, take care of the shaken and disoriented Banner. 

“Are you humming? What is that? Baby hit me one more time?” He blinked and made a frustrated noise, he hated not coming to near his bag, which was almost always. His glasses were there, as was a shirt, and some pants that did not look as absolutely ridiculous as the purple super stretchy things Stark had made for him. At least he’d had time for those, the universe was not completely without mercy. However it was still very, very cruel. It was Peter, in a filthy and destroyed costume who was standing over him. Bruce’s heart sank, and he wondered why his life was as twisted in on itself as it was.

“What? Uh . . . I was just trying to be soothing.” Peter took his hand back and scratched at the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

Bruce looked down his body for injuries, stretched out, wiggled all his fingers and toes. “Looks like I’ve got everything I did before.” He pushed up to his feet slowly, and winced a little. He was sore. Bruce made a displeased face and looked away from Peter for a moment, it was hard to get his bearings, deal with the lost time, the seething feeling just below his skin. At times like this he wished that revolver had been useful. Eternal oblivion, nothingness, was preferable to this. The anger coiled tightly in his stomach, and twitched in his fingertips. It was not something he had ever wanted Peter to see, but then again for a little while he had wanted to keep him.

“You don’t look alright.”

“Me? You’re the one who had half a warehouse fall on him.” Bruce turned his gaze back on Peter, and wondered why it hurt so much to look at him. Three months should have been enough time to dull the ache. 

Peter’s brows raised, “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember . . .” He stopped and took a brief moment to feel surprised. “Oh. I remember that.”

Peter’s science face was on now, and he had stepped a bit closer to Bruce, “What do you think it means?”

It bothered Bruce, how much like Tony Peter was at times like this. The Hulk should scare people out of their minds, but these two, they just wanted to know how it worked. He shook his head and pushed his hands back through his hair, “Means that something is different, or that the other guy wants me to remember . . .” Bruce stopped talking.

“That makes sense, because you’ve said before that you can hear him, that he’s always aware. It’s likely that the personality which has control also has control over the memories made while they are the dominant persona. . . .” Peter trailed off as he caught Bruce’s expression. “What?”

Bruce didn’t say anything right away, he might have, but Peter was not giving him time. It was a little distressing to him, how easily worked up Peter was being. The man was injured, and should have been resting, it tugged on Bruce’s conscience, but he doubted anything he said would dissuade him at the moment.

“So what? We can’t even be friends and colleagues now?” Peter shook his head and came closer to Bruce, almost reached out for him, “I’m not like the others, no matter how much you push me away, I’m still going to care about you.”

Bruce squared his shoulder and shook his head, “If you’re well enough to fight you’re well enough to take care of yourself.” He started to turn away. Tony would be keeping an eye out for him, he could hail a cab and pay for it at the tower, he did not have to stand here and have this discussion, and so he would not. 

“Loving you is like a battle.” Peter said and watched Bruce turn back, he thought that maybe, just maybe he had said the right thing. “And I won’t surrender, I’ll fight till the end.”

Too late he saw Bruce’s face close off and his teeth clench. “Like a battle? That might woe the other guy, but if you love me you ought to know me better.” His eyes were full of pain, no matter that his face was a mask, there was no hiding the agony in those dark eyes, “I don’t want to fight.” With that he left.

Peter stood on the roof, felt his body healing itself and wondered if he could find a way to make it heal that part of himself which people so often referred to, metaphorically, as a heart.

\---------------

Tony had talked them into going. Peter didn’t know it, Bruce didn’t know what Tony was up to, but in the end it had been his plan. Gwen had been insufferable in stating that Peter should go. His paper was being published by SI and he was getting paid for it, so that meant he was employed there, and he should go. Tony had insisted that Bruce was obligated to go, several of his papers were being published, and people needed to see him. He should be getting used to public appearances, and really he should just go. 

Both men had spent more than the average amount of time getting ready. In the backs of their minds they hoped that the other would be there, but both knew that it was foolish. Neither one had any special reason, or acquaintance which would entice them to be there. 

Bruce did his best to mingle, did his best to smile, but he really wished that Tony would have either come with him or not made him come at all. Too often Bruce found himself going over to the refreshments just to have something to do. It felt very embarrassing to just stand alone and watch everyone else. Once or twice he glimpsed a tall man from the back, dressed in khakis, a dark turquoise blue dress shirt.The flash of the merest fraction of the man’s profile was all that Bruce caught, that and the laughter that erupted around him. He told himself he was being silly, that there was no way it was Peter.

He dumped his plate and went for some punch, wondering if he had been there long enough yet to leave. Bruce took a sip and then a few deep breaths. Yes, it was time to leave. He was seeing Peter around every corner here, and the guilt was still too fresh. The last two months had been like living with an open wound, one that would not close, one that festered, smelled and ached. Bruce knew, as soon as he got in the cab that day, he had been wrong. No one had ever fought for him like that, no one had ever been in a position to understand him the way Parker did, no one had ever been strong enough . . . . strong enough that Bruce was not afraid to break them. It was fear, he had faced that, made peace with the fact that he was a coward, and that it was only his being too afraid of being happy and losing that feeling that kept him from Peter. It was a hard pill to swallow, and his very active mind was starting to play tricks on him.

“Oh hey, sorry!” A voice came along with a low speed impact. 

Bruce looked up, saw a bit of turquoise, and then mobile lips, an almost too long nose, ample cocoa eyes, brows like dark wings against smooth pale skin, and hair that was both graceful, sloppy and gravity defying at the same time. “Parker.” Bruce forced himself to be formal, used it as a shield.

“Doctor Banner. Oh! Look, I made you spill your punch.” Peter quickly grabbed a napkin to mop at the dark place on Bruce’s deep purple shirt just below his heart. He was doing it before he even thought about it, innocent and sincere. 

The cup was forgotten. Bruce stood there blinking. Peter was touching him. It was mundane, it was nothing, it meant nothing -- and it meant everything. His heart started thundering, beating out loud enough, hard enough, that he was sure Peter had to feel it. “It’s alright.”

“This shirt has got to cost more than I make in a month, Stark bought it for you right?” His hand slowed, lingered for just a moment. Peter wasn’t sure but he thought he saw Bruce sweating him. Almost imagined he could feel the man’s heart trying to crawl out of his chest. No, I just want it that badly, Peter thought.

“Taking pictures? Maybe.” Bruce shook his head and winced at his own words. Barbs, fear, smoke, that’s all it was. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No, it’s alright.” Peter’s smile faded, he sobered. The moment was over. “It was nice to see you Doctor Banner.” He started to turn around.

“It was nice to see you too.” Bruce said and wondered what he should do with his hands. He settled on clasping them in front of him, just below his navel. “You look . . . handsome in that color.”

Peter stopped and looked back at Bruce thinking that this had to be some sort of joke. “What?”

“Turquoise, it’s a good color on you.” 

He blinked and then shook his head, “Are you being mean on purpose or . . .”

“No, lets get out of here.” Bruce stepped forward and tried to smile.

“Just like that.” Peter shook his head in disbelief. He looked around at the room of people and then back at Bruce, “Really?”

“Yes.” Bruce noticed that he was holding his breath, “Please.”

The walk and elevator ride were silent. Neither of them knew what to say, only that there were novels worth that could be said, volumes and volumes that should be said, but neither of them knew where to start. So they kept silent, even as Bruce opened the door to his room. Lights came on, neither too bright nor too dark. The room was simple, a modestly sized sofa, a low table, one wall a huge window, a door leading off to the bedroom and washroom. It was open, but that room was dark. Peter had never been here before. Bruce had always made it very clear that this room was off limits, that they were moving slow, while they had been moving at all, and no one was taking anyone back to their room. 

It made Peter a little nervous, and he was surprised to notice it, a little angry too. If Bruce had wanted to talk why was this the first he was hearing of it? This felt forced, almost contrived, and he wasn’t sure it was even what he wanted anymore. That was until Bruce turned around to look at him with those big brown eyes so full of worry and shame. Peter swallowed. He could still find some anger, if what he was seeing was anything to go on then Bruce really should have come to him, but he was finding it impossible to fool himself. There was no doubt about what he was feeling. All he wanted was to kiss that worry away.

Bruce took a deep breath and dared not guess at Peter’s expression. “You want to sit down?”

“Yeah.” Peter took a seat at one side of the sofa and waited for Bruce to sit down before he asked, “What is it you wanted to say to me that couldn’t be said in a room of people, but you could wait till now to say.”

“I . . .” Bruce shook his head and looked down at his hands, counted his breaths, his heart beats, and wondered at himself. It could never be enough. At least there could be honesty though, at least, in the end he could give Peter that, “I’m a coward. When you told me you loved me . . . it scared me more than anything has in a long time.” There was silence. Bruce looked over at Peter, saw that he did not look at all inclined to break in and sighed. There was no getting around it. “I’ve tried very hard to make a good man out of myself, tried to be brave and strong. That’s what heroes are. People keep telling me that’s what I am, but it’s not true, I’m weak.”

“I wish . . . I want you to be weak.” Peter shook his head and put his elbows on his knees, his eyes on Bruce, “As weak as I am. Maybe then I would’ve had a chance.” He looked around at the plain room and wondered how Bruce managed to live somewhere and leave so little of himself behind. It was like he was ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Never mind that there were people here who cared about him. No, never mind that at all. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, I can see that you care about me, and yet you push me as far away as you can, and I can see that it hurts you, but you keep doing it because you’ve gotten it into your head that it is the right thing to do.” He took a breath, and wished he knew what Bruce was thinking, Peter wished he knew why these words always made Bruce wince, “And that’s who you are. You always try to do the right thing because you’re strong and good.”

Bruce couldn’t take it. Something snapped, and he laughed. It was not a happy sound. It was broken, and full of pain. It told the deep, intimate story of just how much he hated himself most of the time. “Peter, I try to do the right thing because I am terrified of what I am.”

Peter shook his head, “What are you even talking about? You are one of the most wonderful, brilliant . . .”

“Selfish monster. You keep forgetting that the Hulk is not just something that happens to me. I made him. I made the gamma infusion, and I made the mental freak show. I was so powerless.” Bruce shook his head. He didn’t talk about this. There was no talking about it. Peter knew though, it was all in the public domain, and he knew that the man sitting a few hand spans from him was the sort to do his research. “I watched him do it, watched him snuff out the light in her. Watched her blood spill . . .” Bruce stopped because Peter had scooted closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“He did it in front of you?” Peter shook his head. He knew what had happened, but not how it had happened. His dark eyes were warm with concern.

Bruce looked down at his hands. “Yes.”

“You aren’t him, you do everything you can not to be him.” Since Bruce was not flinching away Peter started rubbing at his back a little. He leaned forward so that he could more easily look Bruce in the eyes should he look up from his hands.

“But . . . .” Bruce shook his head and would have said more but he was cut off.

“Stop that!” Peter frowned and raised his voice ever so slightly. “When have you ever beat someone weaker than you simply because you could? When have you ever killed someone because you could not control them? Bruce, you may have to fight to do the right thing, but so does everyone else. You’re not the only one walking around with things you wish you hadn’t done, lives you think you could have saved. What makes you different is that your contributions to science, the things you have done because of the Hulk, you’ve been able to try and balance the scales a little. You’ve done so much good, and you keep doing it, no matter what they print, no matter how you feel, you just keep pressing on.” He shook his head, “Look at me Bruce.”

Bruce looked over at the young man and just stared. “I’m twice your age, I shouldn’t want this, I can’t be good for you. Peter you deserve to be with someone who is whole . . . .”

“Love is longing for the half of ourselves that we have lost.” Peter whispered and felt his heart start to thud more quickly and loudly in his chest. Bruce still wasn’t pulling away. He did not want to get his hopes up, but there was a chance, a real chance that he was getting through to him.

The moment stretched on. They looked at each other, neither one moving, for fear of breaking whatever peace they had stumbled into. Finally it was Bruce who spoke up, “After all these months I’m still the one you’re longing for?”

Peter nodded and held his breath. “I meant it when I said it, and it’s still true. I . . .”

“Shhh.” Bruce shook his head, those words were so heavy. “Just kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This series of fics was originally meant to just be a one shot. Then someone wanted more, and then the person who prompted me first was unhappy with where things had ended. Needless to say, it turned into something a little bigger than I had first intended. Thank you for all the kudos and encouragement. AO3 is a wonderful place to share one's work. 
> 
> (I always take prompts so who knows, maybe I will be coming back to this)


End file.
